With a bag in my hand and two unwashed knees
I held my young sister’s hand as we came as a pair
Not wanting to let go to show that I care
People arrived taking other children without a fuss
We stood there alone, scared, just the two of us
A lady came up to us to say all the places were taken
The emotions inside were finally awaken
A single tear slowly slaloming from my watery eye
My sister turned “Brother, please don’t cry”
The lady hugged me and said “We’ll sort something out”
We turned suddenly as we heard an almighty shout
Mrs Jamison quickly came over and apologised for being late
She was short with dark hair and didn’t carry much weight
We signed the forms and she took us both by the hand
We were excited to be travelling across new untouched land
We stopped at a house with a garden in the front and back
And greeted by an older boy who Mrs Jamison called Jack
It was her youngest son, who worked tirelessly on the farm
He asked us excitedly if we would like to play in the barn
Mrs Jamison undoubtedly became our forever Welsh mother
And her son, Jack, like a new older brother
News from back home would arrive once a week
Bombing raids and black outs made is sound rather bleak
Then one day we were told the war was finally over
No more German planes would fly over the White Cliffs of Dover
Peace at last and we could go back home to the city
Our goodbye to Jack and Mrs Jamison seemed so very bitty
We kept in touch by letter throughout the many years
Until one day a letter would bring on the heart breaking tears
Mrs Jamison, god bless her, had sadly passed silently away
I will always be thankfully she came on that evacuation day
And now I’m eighty five I can still remember her name
She never wanted thanks or even crave fame
When my mother passed away she was the first to be in touch
Even now I want to tell her that I loved her so much
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